Saving the Dragon
by mariteri
Summary: Raymond "Red" Reddington, a man of means and ways, has always been one to save himself if need be. A harsh man, cruel at times, he sees himself as a dragon-and no one ever saves the dragon. Well, never let it be said Hermione ever listened to such, because she's about to do just that. Rated T for language and violence.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer—I do not own Harry Potter, The Blacklist or any of the characters therein. Nor, sadly, do I make any moneys from the posting of this fanfiction.**

**Here we are another Harry Potter/Blacklist fanfiction. A two shot this time! I know! I'm a wild woman. LOL! Enjoy.**

**Please read and review.**

**…**

**Chapter One**

Hermione made her way into the Department of Mysteries and straight over to her desk, hoping that for once no one would stop her on her way to finish up what felt like the endless paperwork. And yes, for once this didn't happen. No, something else did. She was passing by the meal break room and for once the muggle television set was on and three of her team were in there watching it intently. Curious as to what might be happening, she joined them. She absently made herself some fresh coffee, as she watched what had to be the news from the BBC. But what it could be about, she didn't know.

"What's going on?" she asked, as she was adding sugar to her hot beverage as well as the cream.

Even before she took a sip of her coffee she saw the one face on the screen that had her dropping her cup. The others turned to her in shock when the mug hit the ground unheeded by the one that broke it in the first place.

"Where is this?" she asked, all business. When all of them said nothing, she snapped, "Where is this?!"

"Russia," one of them answered. "Out in the middle of the Siberian no man's land. The only reason there's cameras there was because that man…" He pointed to the man holding a gun, who was pointing to each of the people individually in front of him. "He wanted to make this a public execution of those men. He's pirating all of the BBC's satellites. This is going worldwide as we speak."

The camera stopped on Raymond and she felt her heart nearly stop. Pulling out her phone, she sped dialed the one person she could think of.

"Viktor," she breathed. "Raymond…"

"I see," he said tightly. "What do we do?"

"Get everyone together," she told him, as she walked briskly out of the break room without looking back. "We're going to get him out."

…

She gathered a team of fifteen magicals, all working for Raymond. Trouble now came with the fact that she needed to know what was going on over there—information was power after all. Was this one of his gambits? Red was notorious for them, she reasoned, but who would know outside of him? She seriously doubted that Red had anything to do with this, not with the way that man kept jabbing the gun into his ribs. Hermione would call the one person she knew worked for him and she could trust—Mr. Kaplan.

If those were her only problems that would be more than enough. They would be dealing with enough issues what with there being magical and muggle. But quick travel was going to be impossible as a group if she didn't do something as quickly as she could. And so she did the only thing she could think of—she borrowed a jet. But not just any jet and getting it proved to be rather, well, more difficult than she reasoned on. But she got it, it was working, and fueled. Next was getting pilots, again, this proved to be difficult. But as they paid them quite a bit of money each, they proved to be very cooperative.

It was while they were in transit over to New York that she made the phone call.

"Hello?" the deep contralto voice answered the phone.

"Mr. Kaplan, this is Hermione Granger. Have you seen the BBC as of yet today?"

She could hear the woman grabbing her remote and turning on her television. There was silence followed by, "Oh my god."

"Exactly," she murmured. "Do you think he planned this?"

"With Red you never know, but…" She paused as she kept watching. "I'd have to say no."

"We need to get in touch with Raymond's employees. I have some of his people with me and we can go in together. Where are you currently?"

"New York," she muttered.

"Address?"

The other woman rattled it off. "They gave the time they're going to be executing them. We have six hours—if that!"

"Make the phone calls you have to make to gather a team of Raymond's most trusted people," she told her. "The closer to where you are, the better. If they're in different locations, we'll need names and addresses when we arrive at your home."

Frowning, Mr. Kaplan asked, "Where are you calling from?"

Hermione looked around the jet and smiled. "The air. We're about ten minutes from New York. We'll be at the address given to us within the next twenty minutes."

"All right, see you then," she answered and both hung up at the same time.

As promised, they were at the given address twenty minutes later. At the location was no fewer than another fifteen people. Mr. Kaplan made the introductions on her end.

"And this…" She indicated the large man next to her. "Is Dembe."

"Lovely to meet you all," Hermione said. "Viktor, tell them what we've been able to find out so far about the location."

He nodded and went on to speak. "They're being held in the middle of the Siberian wilderness." He pulled out pictures and handed them out to everyone there. "It's a fortress built there by an old Russian crime family and recently sold to the man who was being the ringmaster, as it were, on the telecast."

They all looked at the picture of the man, reading the information next to the image.

"He goes by the name of Alexi Tolya," Hermione said this time. "If that is his name, we weren't able to find out in the time we had. But by the time we're finished tonight, chances are that it won't matter." She looked over to all of them. "Let's get to the jet and the rest will be explained in transit."

They moved like a well-oiled machine and soon enough they were at the hanger. Mr. Kaplan stopped in her tracks at the sight before her.

"That's a Concorde!" she breathed in awe. "I thought they were no longer in service."

"They aren't," Hermione answered. "We borrowed this one." Smiling she said, "And not to fear, it was gone over with a fine toothed comb first. There would be no way I'd allow anyone onto it otherwise."

Mr. Kaplan relaxed at those words, going up the stairs to the airliner.

Viktor went over to Hermione next, asking, "You never told me what you left behind to take this jet's place."

"I'll tell you later," she murmured. "Right now, we need to be well on our way."

They flew from New York to Morocco for the first leg. They paid through the nose for the fuel from a local crime family, who refused to do business with Hermione. It wasn't until Dembe and Viktor began negotiations with them did they take any real notice.

"It's the twenty-first century," she complained to Mr. Kaplan. "I don't know whether to be pissed off over this attitude or resigned to it."

That had the other woman chuckling. "My wife said the very same to me the other day."

She thought it over. "I don't usually let it get to me. Such is the way when you end up doing what you wish anyway."

They refilled and went on their way to the U.A.E. where fuel she arranged for was awaiting for them. From there they went to Siberia. Landing outside of the place where they were holding Red along with five other men, they thought it would be best to do a surveillance run to see what was going on. A small team of scouts went to check on the grounds while others did a check via a satellite they were using with Russia's permission.

"How did you get them to let us use it?" Mr. Kaplan asked Hermione as she was looking over the compound.

"They don't want any part of this business," Hermione told her. "It's a right mess. If we're willing to clean it up without them looking the worse for it, they don't care as long as they get to claim credit for taking out the bad guys." She finished with the head count and looked to her. "And they're welcome to it." She looked over to Dembe. "I counted a perimeter guard of fifteen with twenty-five in the building." She worried her lower lip. "There's a cold room. Chances are that's where they have more personnel. They're expecting a raid."

"That's what I thought as well," Dembe murmured. "What's the plan?"

"Take out the electronics," she said. "Make it look like an act of nature or a random accident. Next the exterior guards all at once. If we can get the extra guards out of the building and hit them at the same time, all the better. We can't take a chance of one of them reporting in."

Dembe nodded. "Sound reasoning. But what of when we're in?"

She smiled. "We save our dragon, of course."

Dembe and Kaplan frowned at that.

"That's a joke between Raymond and myself," she murmured. "He's the dragon."

"Then what does that make you?" Mr. Kaplan asked.

Standing up, she answered, "Me? I don't know. I have to ask him once we have him out." She walked away, leaving both of them looking after her.

"Why do I get the feeling that there's more to her than meets the eyes?" Mr. Kaplan asked Dembe.

"Probably because there is," he answered her quietly.

All of the electronics were taken out along with communications in one action. Next was the guards once the extra men from the interior of the building came running out to see what was going on. They took them out, using one of them to get into the building before taking care of him as well. Once in the building they took care of those in every other room except where Alexi Tolya was still ranting to his cameraman and wildly waving around his gun.

"I'm telling you that there's no power!" the man told him as he was attempting to get the camera to work once again. He threw it to the ground. "Nothing!"

"Then what good are you to me?" Alexi snarled.

But before the older Russian could answer, the other man was shot in the head and fell backwards. Alexi spun around to face ten men all holding automatic rifles pointing straight at him. A woman dressed in black wool and heavy jacket stepped around the men, going straight over to him. She took the gun from him.

"This show of yours is over," she said, her British tones crisp as she spoke to him. "It is as they say, television is a fickle medium. Alas, you've been canceled." Handing the gun over to Dembe by the trigger guard, she said, "Give me the keys to the restraints on the prisoners."

He snarled and spat in her face. Closing her eyes, she wiped her face off, looking at it on the glove. It was as quick as a snake that she used the heel of her hand to hit his throat. He began choking as she walked closer to him. Knowing she didn't hit him hard enough to kill him she waited for him to catch his breath.

**TBC…**

**…**

**Chapter one is out to you! Well, what are you waiting for? You have another chapter to read! Go! LOL! Thanks for reading and please if you could review.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer—I do not own Harry Potter, The Blacklist or any of the characters therein. Nor, sadly, do I make any moneys from the posting of this fanfiction.**

**…**

**Chapter Two**

Alexi didn't do as much until after he dropped to his knees, holding his throat. Leaning down, she snarled, "Learn some respect or you'll be put down like a rabid dog. Now, hand me the keys." When it looked like he was going to spit at her again, she stood up and said, "Strip him. We'll get the keys once he's naked."

She pulled out a hankie and proceeded to clean her face, as he tried as he might to prevent them from taking his clothes off of him. Hermione took out an antiseptic wipe and finished up cleaning her glove as well as her cheek and nose.

Dembe had gone through all of the man's clothes, as two of the others held the now bruised and battered man. He pulled out three sets of keys. He looked at them and over to Hermione, who looked like she was at the end of her patience. She went over to where the prisoners were. Glancing over the locks, she looked into Raymond's eyes.

Scanning around to all the prisoners there, she asked, "Does he have the chains rigged to anything? Will they harm you if we were to try the wrong key?"

"It will electrocute us," came from Raymond. "It's to a different generator outside."

"Where is it rigged to?" she asked.

"The leg shackles," Raymond told her.

She went over and knelt next to him. She was able to push her finger into the shackle and felt for the wire that must be there. Closing her eyes, Hermione kept searching for the soldering metal rather than the wire itself.

The moment she found it she quickly found the exposed wire as well. Her eyes popped open and she was looking straight into Raymond's intense eyes.

"You might feel…"

"Do it," he said.

She nodded, as she closed her eyes once again. Hermione sent out raw magic through her fingertips straight into the wire. Five seconds later there was a massive explosion that rocked the building. Dust rained down on them, but all were in one piece. She looked to Raymond, who now was looking at her with something akin to wonder. She pulled her hand free of the shackle and looked over to Dembe who had started to free the other men.

"Are you injured?" she asked Red.

"No," he murmured and used his jacket's sleeve to wipe at her face. "You missed a spot."

"Thank you." Dembe joined them and undid Raymond's shackles in silence.

Between all three of them they undid the chains that had Red shackled into place. Once freed, Raymond went over to Alexi. Red stared him in the eyes, his expression unreadable as he did so.

"You know, I think I would have walked away from this with just leaving you naked to be dealt with by the Russians who are no doubt on their way as I speak," he said, looking over to Hermione who nodded in affirmation to what he had said. "I would have, but you just had to spit in her face, didn't you?" He looked to Dembe, holding his hand out. "The MSS Wool that you have tucked into your holster, if you please?"

Dembe handed it over to him.

He shot the man in the foot, making him scream out in pain. "Now I'm all for making you suffer before I leave you out in the subzero temperatures." He shot him in the other foot and into both of his shoulders. Once Alexi was on the ground, he said, "The hell with it." And shot him in the head. Dropping the weapon on the man's chest, he went over to Hermione. "Let's get out of here very quickly. I have no desire to see any officials, do you?"

"None." She looked over to Dembe and gave a nod that had him sending out the all clear to the others.

They arrived at the old airplane hangar and Red saw the jet.

"Is that what I think it is?" he asked.

"Concorde," Mr. Kaplan said, as she joined them. "You don't look too beat up. Do you need a doctor?"

"I just have some bruises," he said. "How did you get your hands on a Concorde?"

"I borrowed it," Hermione told him. "From an auto and aircraft museum in Germany."

Red turned to face her. "You borrowed it?"

"Yes." When he kept just staring at her, she said, "I borrowed it. That's my story and I'm sticking to it."

Chuckling he got into the aircraft speaking softly with Dembe and Mr. Kaplan as they went. Viktor and Hermione, along with the other magical people went about making sure that the jet could fly and got into the jet once that was seen to.

Soon enough they were in the U.A.E. Wanting to rest up from the ordeal, Raymond invited everyone to stay with him at his island home. Hermione wanted to stay, but there was work—not to mention a certain jet that needed to be returned. She made a few calls and was able to get the next week off even as Viktor shrank the Concorde to return it to its rightful owners.

"Remember to do a thorough cleaning spell on it—inside and out," Hermione told him as he was about to leave.

"Already done," he assured her.

"Even your own prints after you just picked it up?"

"Ah! You are a genius!" he told her. "I'll clean it once I get there."

Once he was gone, Hermione went back over to the guest house. She took a shower, washing her face thoroughly as she could. Going into the bedroom, she found a silk lounge set that looked so comfortable. She dressed into it quickly and let out a sigh of contentment at the feel of the smoothness of the outfit on her skin.

She was in the middle of pouring herself an orange juice when she heard, "You borrowed the Concorde, leaving behind a little red wagon carrying a million Euros and a note proclaiming that you were only borrowing the jet." Hermione turned to face Red, who was standing next to the breakfast bar next to the kitchen. He strolled over to her, saying, "That's the single craziest thing I have ever heard of."

"It is?" she breathed, putting down her orange juice.

"Yes, and to do so to save my sorry self?"

"I couldn't exactly magic everyone over to the location," she said. "As much as I had wanted to that would have meant that I would have to wipe their memories and I like most of them too much to do that to."

He nodded, walking over to her. "I figured as much."

"I have healing potions and balms if you need them," she told him.

"They can wait," he said, casually as he slipped his arms around her. Hugging her, he felt as her face was pressed into the crook of his neck even as her arms went around his body with care of what injuries he could have. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she breathed. "Let's get you cleaned and fixed up."

They ended up going to the main house. It wasn't until after his shower that she attended to his cuts and bruises. Hermione worried her lower lip, as she thought over something she had to ask him.

"What's on your mind?" he murmured close to her ear, as her fingers massaged the bruise salve into his ribs.

Looking up into his eyes, which were far closer than she had thought they would be. "Uh, it's nothing really…"

"But?"

"I told Dembe and Mr. Kaplan that you and I both referred to you as a dragon. A question was brought up. If you're the dragon, what does that make me?"

"Hmm, interesting question," he replied. "I must think about that one." He caressed the back of her neck, as he asked, "What happened to your foot? I saw you putting something on it as I was getting out of the bathroom."

"I dropped a full mug of coffee and got it all over my feet. The right ankle received the worst of it, but neither one was that bad. I didn't even realize that I had given myself a minor burn until I was in the shower here." She paused, thinking over the very moment that she had first seen his face on the screen. "You must endeavor never to be captured like that again, Raymond. I don't like being scared so and I end up borrowing things I have no business being near."

"I'll do my best," he assured her. "Let me see your feet."

He looked over her ankles, even going as far as taking a smudge of the healing paste and rubbing it into several small cuts she missed.

"Who did you get to fly the plane?" he asked her.

"A couple of retired Air France pilots," she told him. "They flew the Concorde exclusively."

"How much did you pay them?"

"Five million Euros each," Hermione replied.

"Really?" he breathed. "That much?"

"It's just money," she muttered.

He set her feet onto the floor. "I think I've come up with an answer for your question."

Thinking it over, she asked, "The one about what I am?"

"Yes," he answered.

"What am I?" she inquired, honestly curious as to the answer he had come up with.

"Mine." And slowly leaned down and kissed her hungrily with her returning it in full a heartbeat later.

**The End**

**…**

**I have to ask—So just how many of you are picking up your jaws from the floor right now? LOL! Yeah, I'm going to be asked a lot of questions. I just know it. Bring them on! Thanks for reading and you have a great day.**


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